


Drawing Lessons

by JAMES_BUCHANON_BARNES_YES



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Drawing, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAMES_BUCHANON_BARNES_YES/pseuds/JAMES_BUCHANON_BARNES_YES
Summary: Steve is a small kid who's the bottom rung on the social ladder at his high school. While walking down the hall one day, he literally crashes into Bucky Barnes, the school's track star. What happens when Bucky begins to flip through Steve's sketchbook?





	1. Chapter 1

Head down. Walking quickly. Books held in front of him, shielding him from the torrent of people shoving through the hallways. Nonetheless, he got pushed around. That’s just how it was for someone as small and frail as Steve, and he was used to it. He turned a corner, only to crash full-on into someone much larger than him. Steve’s books went sprawling around him, his sketchbook fluttering in the air, his treasured set of art pencils coming open with a crack, sending the expensive pencils scattering.

“Ugh…” Steve groaned, picking himself up and beginning to collect his things. He didn’t even look up, since there was no doubt in his mind that whatever jerk had knocked him over this time had long since walked away.

“Hey, this yours?” A male voice asked from his left, closer than expected. Steve looked up to see a brunette holding his sketchbook open and flipping through it, awe clearly written on his face. Steve finished gathering his worn out pencils and put them back in their case in order of h9 to b6.

“Yeah.” Steve replied defensively, knowing that he was talking to Bucky Barnes, the biggest track star and ladies’ man of his entire grade.

“They’re really good.” Bucky told him, carefully closing the sketchbook and standing up, reaching a hand down for the smaller boy.

“Not really…” Steve trailed off, ignoring Bucky’s hand and pushing himself up. Bucky retracted his empty hand and instead gave Steve his sketchbook.

“Well, they’re better than anything I’ve done.” Bucky said sheepishly as Steve quickly snatched the sketchbook from his hand.

“You draw?” Steve looked up, surprised.

“Well, I try to, anyway. I’m not very good.” Bucky said, looking at the tile floor.

“Well, just keep trying. You’ll get it, I feel sure.” Steve wasn’t usually one to give encouragement to others, especially those of a higher social status than him, which was basically everyone. But, Bucky had actually helped him pick up his stuff and been generally kind to him, so he felt inclined to be kind back.

“I doubt it.” Bucky said. “I’ll never be any good at that. Especially compared to you.” Bucky gestured at the sketchbook in Steve’s hand.

“I could… I could teach you sometime… If-if you want…” Steve offered, already kicking himself for saying something so stupid. Bucky Barnes, of all people, would not be wanting to take art classes from a little runt like Steve.

“I’d love that.” Bucky said, smiling his ever-charming grin.

“Really?” Steve was astonished. That had worked?

“Yeah. I can use all the help I can get. You free after school?” Bucky asked, fully aware that the hallways were almost deserted at this point, and they were both going to be late for sure.

“Wait, you mean today?” Steve asked, still surprised.

“Unless you’re busy?” Bucky added.

“I’m not.” Steve responded a little too quickly. He had no life, but he didn’t exactly want someone like Bucky to know that.

“Great. My house sound good?” Bucky continued.

“Sure, sounds fine.” Steve replied.

“Wonderful. It’s not far, I usually walk. Meet me at the flagpole after school and we’ll go together?”

“Alright.” Steve said. Bucky smiled. When Steve didn’t smile back immediately, Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and shook it gently. Steve wasn’t used to friendly gestures like that, as he had no friends. He looked up at Bucky and smiled gently. The bell rang, signalling the start of class.

“Crap.” Steve said, only then realizing how long they’d been talking. “I’m late to math. I’ve gotta run. See you later, right?”

“Yep. Flagpole. After school. See ya there!” Bucky called as Steve hurried off down the hallway, his small frame picking up more speed than Bucky had imagined. He stood there for a second and watched the blonde go down the hall. How had he never noticed Steve before?

* * *

Bucky checked his watch again. School had been out a good twenty minutes. There were no kids left loitering in front of the school except for Bucky, who was still leaning against the flagpole trying to look cool. Had Steve forgotten that he was going to Bucky’s house after school?

Just then, Steve came running from around the side of the building. His backpack was slung haphazardly over one of his shoulders and was unzipped, some papers spilling out onto the cement. Steve didn’t seem to notice or, if he did notice, he didn’t seem to care. As he came closer, Bucky could see that Steve’s lip was bleeding and he had the beginning of a black eye that was just starting to swell. He slowed down as he reached the flagpole, leaning down to close his backpack. He wiped the blood from the side of his mouth casually. Too casually. Bucky shot away from the flagpole, toward the panting Steve, concern written all over his face.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. I ran into some trouble. Thanks for waiting. I was afraid you’d left.” Steve said absentmindedly in between wheezes of asthmatic breath. Bucky just stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“What happened?” Were the words Bucky finally settled on asking Steve.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Steve replied, standing once more and putting his backpack on. “Which way’s your house?”

“Wha- Oh, it’s that way. Steve, wha-” Bucky stopped talking, because it was clear that Steve wasn’t listening, having already turned and begun walking down the sidewalk. Bucky didn’t know what to do for once more. Apparently, Steve was very good at confusing James Buchanan Barnes. After a few seconds, Bucky seemed to regain consciousness, having to sprint to catch up with the small boy. He was really an incredibly quick walker for someone with such short legs.

“Dude, what happened?” Bucky asked seriously as he caught easily up with Steve.

“I already told you: nothing.” Steve replied stubbornly as he continued to walk.

“Then why does your face look like you just got beat up?” Bucky asked.

“Because I did.” was Steve’s response. He said it like it meant nothing. Bucky’s mouth hung open for a second before he regained his composure.

“You… you just got beat up?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“Listen.” Steve began. “I don’t need your pity. Really, I’m used to this kind of thing.”

“Hang on. Is this a regular occurrence for you?” Bucky asked. Steve didn’t respond. “Dude, Steve - that’s your name, right? Steve, you don’t have to put up with that!”

“I don’t put up with anything. That’s why I get beat up.” Steve responded. However, Steve’s voice wasn’t bitter at all, just sort of… neutral. As if he didn’t really care if he got beat up.

“Hey, you little punk, I’m serious here. If you need help with anyone, tell me.” Bucky said. He barely even knew the kid, but he was overcome with care for the small boy quite suddenly.

“Listen, jerk. I don’t need your help. I’m doing just fine on my own.” Steve’s words were hostile, but his tone was gentle. He couldn’t be cruel to someone as kind as Bucky.

“Hey, alright. I’m just saying… you’ve got an ally in me. If you ever need help - and I’m not sayin’ you do - but if you do, tell me, and I’ll be there.” Bucky said. Steve looked over at him. He’d never heard those words before. He had not expected his day to go the way it had, but crashing into Bucky had wound up being a pleasant surprise thus far.

“Thanks.” Steve said simply.

“This one’s mine.” Bucky said, pointing to a small brick house with lovely irises in front.

“The flowers are nice.” Steve complemented. He thought he’d like to draw them sometime.

“Thanks. My ma keeps ‘em lookin’ nice and everything.” Bucky responded as they strolled down the front walk. He pulled out a set of keys as they stepped up to the door, but there was no need, as the door opened before they even came to a stop. Behind it stood a younger girl, probably a freshman, with bouncy dark curls framing her face.

“Who’s he?” She nodded toward Steve while looking directly at Bucky. Steve felt awkward, but that wasn’t new to him, so he just stood there looking at his shoelaces.

“Hey, Becca. That’s Steve.” Bucky said, pushing the door open wider and nodding for Steve to come in. Becca shrugged and walked off to another part of the house.

“That’s your sister?” Steve asked as Bucky closed the front door.

“Yeah.” Bucky answered. “Rebecca’s my little sister. She’s great, I have to admit it. But, if she ever asks, I hate her guts. You got any siblings?”

“Nope.” Steve said. He was an only child. Bucky led them to his bedroom and closed the door. It wasn’t at all what Steve had imagined the school track star’s bedroom to look like. He’d imagined sports trophies lining the walls and rumpled clothes covering the floor. Instead, he found only one shelf with some medals on it, a couple drawings hanging on the walls, and the most organized room he’d ever laid eyes on. It was more organized than even his was.

“So.” Bucky pulled a small folding table out from under his bed and set it up on the open floor space. “Teach me how to draw.” He opened his closet (also perfectly organized) and pulled out some paper and a set of really nice colored pencils. He’d saved up for half a year to buy those, and then he had to hide them from his “friends” because he knew they’d make fun of him for having them. That wasn’t especially hard though, since Bucky pretty much never invited anyone to his house. Except now, of course. For some reason.

“Those are really nice colored pencils.” Steve commented, reading the label on the case. “You buy those yourself?”

“Yeah, I did. Had to save up for six months. I know you’ve got nice drawing graphite ones. You get those yourself?” Came Bucky’s return question as he pulled out two folding chairs.

“Yeah. Saved for over a year.” Steve replied, smiling sweetly. Bucky set the chairs down next to the table, and the two boys sat down.

“Why don’t you get those out now, and you can teach me to do this stuff.” Bucky smiled his most charming smile at Steve. Steve leaned over and unzipped his backpack, which was resting on the floor. He dug through it a little bit, then his face went white.

“Oh, no…” Steve groaned. “This cannot be happening.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, concern filling his pretty voice. Apparently that would happen to Bucky a lot around Steve. He just cared.

“The pencils aren’t in here. I bet that asshole took them.” Steve mumbled, his voice sounding less like anger and more like grief.

“Whoa! Language!” Was Bucky’s first response, as swearing was not permitted in his house. “Wait… who?” He asked. Steve sighed.

“Nobody.” He said at the ground.

“No, really Steve. Who took them? Is it the same guy that beat you up?” Bucky hounded Steve. All Steve could do was nod. “Who was it? I swear, I’ll beat the crap out of him whenever I find him.”

Steve looked up. He wasn’t used to being protected. Normally he would have refused such protection, but something just made him trust Bucky. He’d probably regret that later, but for now it felt really nice. However, he still didn’t feel comfortable disclosing the name of the jerk who had beaten him up on this particular afternoon. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does!” Bucky protested. “Did you not hear me say that I was gonna beat the crap out of him?”

Steve smiled a sad little smile. “It’s alright, Bucky. Really. We can just use ordinary pencils.”

Bucky sighed in defeat, knowing that this wasn’t right but being unable to do anything about it. He got two pencils from a cup on his dresser, and sat down again next to Steve.

“So, whaddya wanna learn to draw?” Steve asked, having never taught anyone how to draw until that moment.

“I don’t know. What’s the easiest thing to draw?” Bucky asked.

“Flowers.” Came Steve’s reply. “As long as you have an image in mind or a picture or something to draw off of, flowers are easy.”

“Alright, then. Hey! Maybe we could draw my mom’s irises!” Bucky said. Steve smiled in return.

“Sounds great.”

So the two boys headed out the front door with their papers and pencils, seating themselves on the walk in front of the flowers. First, Steve showed Bucky how to draw the stem, which was easy, then he moved on to the flower itself.

“See the little squiggly folds in the petals? You draw those like this.” Steve demonstrated drawing the little wiggly outlines of iris petals. Bucky did the same.

“Like this?” Bucky was looking for confirmation from Steve. Steve carefully looked over at the lines drawn on Bucky’s piece of paper.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” Steve offered, then continued showing Bucky how to draw the blossoms step by step.

* * *

“Hey, thanks Steve.” Bucky said as Steve put his sketchbook back in his backpack. Steve looked up from his task momentarily.

“Don’t mention it.” He said.

“I don’t know you all that well yet, but you’re pretty great.” As Bucky said this, Steve smiled and blushed just a little bit, “For a punk, I mean.” Bucky teased, laughing so Steve knew it was only a friendly joke.

“Jerk.” Steve said, but he was struggling to contain his own laughter. Something about the way Bucky had said he didn’t know Steve very well “yet” had made Steve happier than he’d ever been in his life.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, man.” Bucky said, smiling as Steve headed out the door. They waved at each other, and Steve walked down the street back in the direction of the school.

“So, how’d you meet him?” Becca asked, clearly suspicious, as soon as Steve had gone.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, legitimately confused as to why she’d ask such a thing.

“Bucky, you just, all of a sudden, out of the blue, brought some kid over to our house. I know for a fact that you have never mentioned a ‘Steve’ before. He’s definitely not one of the kids you normally hang out with. Hell, he looks like a freshman, like me!” Becca said.

“Whoa, Becca, slow down. He’s a Junior, I promise. Look, I met him today. He’s giving me drawing lessons.” Bucky said.

“Okay.” Becca said gently. She knew that drawing was like dancing for Bucky: something he loved that he couldn’t share with any of his jock “friends”. “I get it.” She said, and she did get it. The siblings shared a knowing smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing Bucky knows where Steve's locker is.

Steve tried his locker combination a third time. Maybe if people would stop jostling him, he’d be able to get it right. He spun it to the first number, seventeen, then started to twist it in the other direction just as someone slammed him with their shoulder. In frustration, Steve kicked the bottom corner of his locker. It shuttered open.

“Oh.” He muttered, storing that handy little bit of information for another time. He slid his books onto the shelf at the top of his blue storage unit. That’s when he noticed it: a piece of white paper folded in half was resting gently on his backpack, as if someone had dropped it in through the slots on his locker. He pulled it out, ready to crumple up what he naturally assumed to be some note telling him how ugly and scrawny he was. He’d gotten notes saying those things before, along with others that used… stronger language.

He opened the sheet, though, just to make sure that it was indeed another horrid note, only to discover that it wasn’t. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was good. On the sheet was a drawing of an iris. Steve recognized it as the one Bucky had drawn the day before, only now it was colored in. The shading wasn’t done very well, but maybe that was just because Bucky had colored it rather than shaded it with black and white. Bucky didn’t know about Steve’s colorblindness, and it would remain that way, at least for the moment due to Steve’s sheer embarrassment on the matter. Still, Steve found the drawing beautiful.

He took one of the magnet clips he had on the inside of his locker door, and hung up the drawing, which just barely fit the width of the metal. He admired it for a second, before grabbing the paper bag that contained his lunch and gently closing the locker with his foot as he walked off.

From down the crowded hall, Bucky observed all of this, smiling. Steve was kind of... cute. Steve was also walking toward him. Bucky immediately turned around and pretended to be getting a drink from the drinking fountain he’d been leaning against. As Steve neared, he stood straight once more and gave Steve a half smile. Steve smiled back, radiant, as he walked on down the hallway.

Bucky watched him go, the corners of his mouth twitching upward fondly. What was wrong with him? He had literally met the punk twenty-four hours ago. Suddenly, he noticed that Steve was going a different direction as everyone else in the hallway. Was he not headed for the cafeteria? Without really knowing what he was doing, Bucky launched himself from the drinking fountain and began to walk after Steve.

“You always eat out here?” Bucky asked, sitting down next to Steve on the front steps of their school. Steve jumped, startled, before calming down again when he registered who was speaking.

“Yeah.” Steve replied simply. He had nothing more to say on the matter.

“Even in winter?” Bucky asked, to which Steve nodded, mouth full of sandwich. “Don’t you get cold?”

“A little. But it’s better than eating inside.” Steve admitted.

“Why’s it better?” Bucky was genuinely curious.

“Quieter.” Steve stated. He had more reason than that, and they both knew it. Neither said a word.

“You ever get your pencils back?” Bucky asked, changing the topic.

“No, they’re long gone.” Steve was quiet for a moment. “It’s fine though, I can draw without them.”

“You know you can use my colored pencils anytime, right?” Bucky offered.

“No, I really can’t.” Steve sighed.

“I mean it. You can even have them, if you want.” Bucky stopped himself just short of saying that he’d give Steve the entire world if he could. Something told him that might not go over well.

“I’m sure you do. But, nonetheless, I can’t use colored pencils.” Steve was no longer just referring to Bucky’s colored pencils, but color in general.

“Why’s that?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m just… colorblind.” Steve admitted at last. He never liked to tell that to people if he could avoid it. He tried to shrink down into his oversized shirt, but apparently that didn’t work around Bucky.

“Colorblind...” Bucky spoke to himself, but Steve could hear since they were so near to each other. “Okay.” Bucky said. The tone of his voice said that he couldn’t care less.

“Hey… Bucky?” Steve asked, hesitant to get too close to someone with a status like Bucky’s.

“Yeah, Steve?” Bucky was ready to listen.

“What color was the iris in that drawing?” His voice was vulnerable. He was opening up to someone for the first time in his entire childhood and it felt… natural. Friendship was natural.

“Pink.” Bucky responded easily. “Hey, don’t tell anyone this, ‘cause i’d be skinned alive, but pink’s my favorite color.”

“Pink is my favorite shade of gray.” Steve said in response, making both of them laugh hysterically. Steve was laughing so hard that he began to wheeze and suddenly found that he couldn’t breath. Knowing what to do, he reached into his pocket for his inhaler, only to find that it was not there. Panicked, he checked all of his other pockets to find them empty as well. He dumped out his lunch bag, but it only had food in it. He had an emergency inhaler in his backpack, but that was all the way in his locker.

“Steve, are you okay?!” Bucky watched all of this in confusion. Steve’s eyes were wide as he tried to speak through his asthma attack.

“Inhaler…” He wheezed out. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die here.

“Where’s your inhaler, Steve?” Bucky asked, his voice clear as he quickly got up. Steve tried to speak again, but found that he actually couldn’t. He pointed into the school, hoping Bucky knew that he meant in his locker. “Inside?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. “Where? Your locker?” Bucky’s mind was working quickly. Steve nodded again, trying and failing to inhale. Bucky sprang from the steps like a cat, flinging the school doors open and sprinting down the hall. Steve was lucky that James Buchanan Barnes was a champion sprinter.

Which locker was Steve’s again? 7980? 7890? 8970? It was 9807. That’s right. Bucky ran, taking whole sections of hallway with only two huge bounds. He turned left. Then right. Then left again until he came to Steve’s locker: 9807. Wait, he didn’t know Steve’s com. What to do… what to do? That’s right! Steve had kicked his locker open earlier. Bucky pulled his right leg back and swung it forward with all his might.

The locker opened with a shrieking cry, practically falling off its hinges. Bucky’s foot felt numb, but he honestly didn’t care. Where in Steve’s locker would the inhaler be? He took a brief look at the small space. There wasn’t much inside, thank goodness, so Bucky could pretty much rule out anything other than the backpack. He pulled it out and unzipped the smaller of the two pockets. Resting within it was an inhaler. Lucky guess. He grabbed the thing, dropping Steve’s backpack on the floor without a care, and sprinting full-force back to Steve.

“I got it!” Bucky proclaimed as he came bursting through the double doors. To Steve, who still hadn’t gotten a single breath in during that entire time, Bucky looked like an angel sent straight from heaven just for Steve. Maybe he was. Steve gingerly reached out a frail hand out, Taking the inhaler from Bucky. Steve slowly took puffs of the drugs inside until he could breathe almost normally. He was still shaking as he set the inhaler down on the pavement.

“You good, Stevie?” Bucky asked, concern etched in every inch of his face. Steve nodded. Bucky gently slung his arm around Steve’s neck, comforting his newfound friend. “God, don’t scare me like that, you little punk. Can’t have you dying now, I haven’t even got’ to know ya yet!” They smiled at each other. Bucky’s arm hung loosely around Steve shoulders as the world continued around them.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve asked, slightly less timid after he’d almost died.

“Yeah, Steve?” Bucky couldn’t help but feel the warmth coming off Steve’s small frame as he replied.

“You wanna learn how to draw hands?” Steve was holding one of his bony hands out in front of the, as he spoke.

“Yeah, Stevie, I do.” Bucky reached forward and hung his hand in the air next to Steve’s. Bucky’s hand was considerably larger than Steve’s, but they looked perfect together, floating in the sunlight.

“You free today?”

“Yeah, I am.” Bucky placed his hand on the back of Steve’s and brought them both down onto the pavement, Bucky’s fully enveloping Steve’s smaller one. Steve smiled.

“Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor little pre-serum Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve shows Bucky how to draw hands.

“Here, I’ll hold my hand out like this,” Steve placed his hand gently on the table in a way that he hoped was picturesque, “And I’ll use my other hand to show you how to draw it.” Bucky smiled, looking at Steve’s bony hand laying on the table. “First we’re gonna draw the top of it, right here,” Steve brushed his finger along the top edge of his hand, before placing the tip of his pencil on the blank page of his sketchbook and perfectly replicating the curves and ridges along the top of his hand. Bucky looked at Steve’s hand for a second before placing his pencil on the paper and drawing his own line. This time Steve smiled.

“Great. Now, right in the middle here, we’re gonna draw where the thumb comes out.” Steve pointed the sharpened tip of his pencil toward the center of his hand.

“Right here, you mean?” Bucky asked, pointing just slightly higher than what Steve had in mind.

“No. Right… there” Steve held Bucky’s wrist gently, moving Bucky’s hand until it was just brushing against the base of Steve’s thumb. Steve’s hands were really warm. Bucky’s hands were really soft. “Draw that.”

Slowly, Steve showed Bucky how to draw his hand, line by line. Often (probably more than was absolutely necessary) Bucky traced the edges of Steve’s fingers before he drew them. It sent chills up Steve’s spine.

“There, see? We’re done.” Steve found himself saying all too soon. They were finished drawing the lines of Steve’s hand, and he had even taken the time to show Bucky how to shade and blend the pencil to make it look more realistic. He could now finally move his hand, and was discovering that it was rather sore from resting in such an odd position for so long. Bucky watched as Steve slowly rotated his wrist around in circles, opening and closing his fist.

“Hey, Steve?” Steve looked up at the sound of Bucky’s soft voice. Bucky hadn’t intended to speak, and yet words had slipped out of his mouth. “Wanna hang out tomorrow? We could... see a movie or something. Maybe you could spend the night, I don’t know…” Bucky trailed off. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, sounds great.” Steve replied casually, shrugging his bony shoulders. Bucky broke into a grin, his teeth showing through as his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. Steve cocked a half-smile back at him.

“Meet here tomorrow at... oh... let’s say seven? After dinner? Then we can catch a movie and head back here. You can spend the night. Sound good?” Bucky thought out loud, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively as he pursed his lips slightly.

“Sounds good to me. See ya tomorrow!” Steve called with a one-handed wave directed behind him as he sauntered out of Bucky’s room. Three seconds later Bucky heard his front door open and close. Just like that, Steve had vanished into the evening. Bucky remained seated for a minute or two, frozen. Slowly, he began to collect himself, picking up his pencil and putting it away. As he reached to pick up his paper from the table, he saw that Steve had left his sketchbook resting there.

For a moment, Bucky thought of running out onto the street to catch up with Steve and return his sketchbook, but Steve would be coming over tomorrow anyway, so why bother? Bucky moved the sketchbook and his own drawing of Steve’s hand onto his bed and put away the table. Once done, he turned on his small radio and sat down on his bed, one leg folded under the other.

Bucky found himself humming along to Fred Astaire’s rich voice that was crackling out of his little radio.

“Just the way you look tonight…” Bucky sang gently to himself, closing his eyes for a moment and swaying to the rhythm of the song. Opening his eyes once more, he picked up Steve’s sketchbook. He’d only seen snippets of Steve’s drawings before, but he opened the sketchbook to the first page and began to take in the beautiful details of Steve’ black and white masterpieces.

The first page of the book was a drawing of a small kitten, black with two white splotches on one ear and one paw. Individual hairs had been drawn over the kitten’s face and paws, as well as all down its back. That must have taken Steve forever to draw. Bucky could just picture Steve, hunched over his sketchbook for hours, pausing only to sharpen his pencils. He pictured the determined look on Steve’s face, focus intent on the drawing pad in front of him. His eyebrows would be slightly pulled together in concentration, but other than that, his face would be relaxed, serene. Perhaps Steve would even have a slight smile playing at his lips as his drawing came to life before his eyes.

“‘Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight…” Bucky sang absentmindedly as he flipped to the next page, which contained a drawing of Steve himself. In the drawing, Steve’s loose clothes were rumpled, a part of his shirt torn as his face bled in several spots. The back of the page dated the drawing to almost two months ago. In this particular drawing, Steve looked just as he had the day he taught Bucky how to draw irises: beat up and used to it. Worry snuck into Bucky’s facial features, his eyebrows knotting together and his lips turning downward slightly. Steve was clearly a tough, punk little kid, but that didn’t stop someone like Bucky from worrying about him. How often was Steve beat up like that?

Bucky continued to flip slowly through the pages of Steve’s sketchbook. He stopped to admire each picture he came across in detail, noting the level of skill Steve possessed. As he began to reach dates closer to the current day, he noticed that Steve had begun to obsessively draw birds. A week ago, he’d drawn a blue jay, a robin, a raven, a pigeon, and a cardinal in extreme detail. He’d never drawn a single bird up until that point, but he had suddenly grown quite fond of them.

Then Bucky came to a drawing from the day before. Bucky had only just met Steve that day, though he felt like he’d known him for his whole life. The drawing was of Bucky himself. He studied it, mesmerized. Steve had definitely drawn it well, carefully making it look exactly like Bucky did in real life. In the drawing, his left hand was reaching upward to the sky, a small sparrow resting on his pointer finger. The drawing of Bucky was smiling delicately, looking at the tiny creature on his finger. The background was drawn with almost no detail at all: Bucky could tell that it was the inside of his high school, but only by the outline of lockers. For the most part, it was just shaded blurs. Bucky looked at Steve’s drawing carefully, noting how long Steve must have spent drawing the detail work in Bucky’s hair, face and clothing. It would have taken him hours of focus.

Bucky flipped the page over, seeing that Steve had written some sentences on the back of the drawing in his wild, loopy handwriting: Here’s a drawing of this sweet jerk I literally crashed into earlier today. He was actually nice to me and helped me pick up my stuff. I just needed to draw him immediately, so I went down to the nurse’s office to lie down (which I can do any time without questions due to my circumstances) and spent almost the rest of the school day drawing him. James Barnes. Bucky. The school’s track star. He’s got no business talking to someone like me, and yet he struck up a conversation anyway. I’d love to get to know him. Steve had written quite a bit on the back of the drawing. Bucky didn’t realize he was smiling until he snapped out of it, which was quite likely a good few minutes after he’d first read the passage. He’d zoned out after he’d seen that Steve had drawn a small heart next to his name.

Closing the sketchbook, he stood up and stretched. Bucky reached over and turned off his radio. Though a few songs had now cycled through since it played, he still had The Way You Look Tonight stuck in his head. He hummed a few lines, before giving in to his own wishes and singing the entire last verse while slow dancing around his bedroom with a phantom partner. All he could think of was that little bird on the tip of his finger in Steve’s drawing. That tiny, trifling little bird that meant so much to him for no reason at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spends the night at Bucky's.

Steve was late. It was seven twelve, and Bucky had found himself checking his watch every twenty seconds since six forty five. He was sitting in the warm sunshine of his front lawn, pretending to read a book, while he was really just looking down the length of the sidewalk, waiting for Steve to appear. He didn’t even even know the title of the book he held open in his hands, because it was really just something to hold. Bucky closed his eyes for a second. He was getting worried.

Sighing, Bucky stood up, tucking his small book into his pants pocket and starting off in the direction of Steve’s house. He didn’t really know where Steve lived, but he had gathered that it was past their school in the other direction, so he trotted off that way. As his feet padded down the sidewalk, images flooded his head of Steve bleeding or bruised. His steps began to rapidly pick up their pace until he was running at a full blown sprint. The air whipped his perfectly combed hair around his head as a bead of sweat fell from his forehead. He didn’t really care about that anymore. Within three days, Steve had managed to worry Bucky more than anyone ever had before, which was quite a feat.

Soon enough, Bucky had reached his school. He paused, slowing to a walk, unsure of where to go from there. He didn’t actually know where Steve lived. He looked around the surroundings for any sign of Steve. Nothing. There was just a quiet street of houses and one young girl riding a bicycle down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Definitely no Steve in sight. God, why was Steve so easy to worry about?

Just as Bucky was about to start running up and down the street screaming Steve’s name, he heard slapping sounds on the pavement. He looked up to see Steve running down the center of the street towards him, cheeks flushed.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled, his voice breathless from running, “Sorry I’m late!” He slowed down as he came closer to his friend. “My mom was taking forever to eat dinner, and I couldn’t bear to just leave her alone to clean up, you know?” He smiled heedlessly as his rumpled hair shifted carelessly in the wind.

“It’s alright, Steve. I totally get it.” Bucky said, turning and walking next to Steve on the sidewalk.

“So, Movies?” Steve grinned, though he was still out of breath.

“Yup. I’m paying. Though, I only have enough for one small popcorn, hope you don’t mind sharing. I’m saving up for something.” Bucky informed Steve.

“That’s fine. What are you saving up for?” Steve asked, interested.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bucky said teasingly, very deliberately keeping the identity of his personal mcguffin hidden from Steve. The blonde kid looked curiously up at the other. Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Steve! You’ll find out eventually, I promise.”

“Jerk,” Steve sighed resignedly, his face breaking into a glorious smile despite his best efforts to keep it scowling. There was just something about Bucky that made him constantly want to be smiling. He hit Bucky on the shoulder in a playful way.

“Punk,” Bucky breathed out, his voice entirely lacking conviction. “C’mon, let’s go see a movie.”

* * *

“No!” Bucky yelled as Steve held out his palm for Bucky’s money. “You’re cheating, I swear! It’s the only explanation!”

The two boys were sitting on Bucky’s living room floor, playing Monopoly. It was past midnight, so Becca was long since asleep, as was Bucky’s mother. It was just the two of them and the stars in the window.

“I would never!” Steve said, pretending to be offended by Bucky’s accusation, though, in truth, he would actually never cheat at anything. “Now gimme my money.” Steve pointedly moved his outstretched palm directly into Bucky’s face. Bucky sighed, acting as if it pained him when he handed Steve the colorful paper bills.

“I don’t understand…” Bucky groaned, “I’ve never lost a game of Monopoly in my life.” to which Steve grinned roguishly.

“Well, today’s your lucky day, then. It just so happens that I am the king of Monopoly, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Steve cracked his knuckles once before rolling the dice and landing a six.

“Hey, Stevie, I think the clouds went away, like, an hour ago. Wanna go out and take a look at the stars?” Bucky asked.

“Is this just a sad attempt to get me to quit Monopoly?” Steve raised a suspicious eyebrow at his friend.

“Maybe… but also I just really like stars.” Bucky shrugged casually.

“Well, let’s just leave this exactly as it is and come back to it later, then.” Steve rose from his position of sprawled out on the floor. The small blonde was already out the door to Bucky’s backyard by the time Bucky stood up. Grabbing an old blanket, Bucky followed him out. Steve was already staring up at the luminous night sky when Bucky laid the blanket down on the grass. The boys lay on the blanket, side by side, staring up at the sky. There was a peaceful silence for a couple of minutes as they each stared contemplatively up at the little pinpricks of light in the sky, completely spellbound. Suddenly, Bucky spoke, breaking the silence.

“S-Steve?” Bucky asked, faltering, hesitant. Steve had never heard Bucky’s voice break like that before. He sounded… fearful.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve turned his head so that he was looking at Bucky instead of the sky. Bucky just continued to stare up, his eyes unmoving. Bucky was silent for another second, his breath shaking slightly. Steve carefully watched the glint of starlight on Bucky’s cheek as a tear slipped down his face.

“Can I tell you something?” Bucky said finally, the terror not leaving his voice for even a moment.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Steve replied, willing Bucky to know that he was there for him.

“Will you promise not to abandon me if I tell you?” Bucky whispered, no longer able to use his vocal chords as his whole torso began to tremble.

“I promise, Bucky. You’re my only friend. I’d never abandon you.” Steve’s voice was resolute. There was no way in Hell Steve was going to back out of this friendship, now or ever.

“What if I was… um…” Bucky couldn’t finish his statement. He physically could not get the last word out of his mouth.

“Yeah?” Steve asked gently, his voice soft and mild. It was the kindest thing Bucky had ever heard in his life. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath and tried again.

“Steve... what would you do if I was gay?” He finally pushed the words out of his mouth, heavier than lead. His voice was barely audible, But Steve could hear him clearly. The blonde kid reached his small hand out to Bucky’s, firmly grasping his friend’s hand and holding it.

“That’d be fine, Bucky.” Steve said reassuringly, “Are you?”

Bucky’s reply caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak. He just nodded his head. Steve squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay, Bucky. Really, it is. I’m here for you. Always.” Bucky held the sound of Steve’s words in his mind. Acceptance. The best feeling in the world washed over him. Acceptance. It was more than he could possibly comprehend. Bucky totally lost it then, tears spilling out of his eyes, his entire body shaking violently with the sheer emotion that had washed over him. His breath came in gasps. Steve just gripped firmly onto his hand, holding him to the earth as he bawled his eyes out.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.” Bucky said once his breathing had calmed down to an almost normal level. His voice was rough and ragged from crying, and his eyes were red, but he was smiling. He sat up on the blanket, facing Steve. Steve copied him, sitting up and turning to face Bucky. Their hands were still clasped, the warmth from each seeping into the other.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve asked, looking down at the grass to the left of Bucky.

“Yeah, Stevie?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Me too.” Was all Steve said, looking up at Bucky. Their eyes locked for a moment, the two boys sharing a knowing look.

“C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out.” Bucky said after a little bit, only once he felt Steve’s arm shivering as they held hands. Standing up, Bucky draped the blanket over his shoulder, walking back into his house hand in hand with Steve. The went back into the living room, sitting down next to each other on the couch quietly. Neither really felt like talking just then. Steve was still shivering, so Bucky put the blanket on top of him. Sleepily, Steve laid his head gently to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, falling asleep instantly. Bucky sighed deeply, smiling as he, too, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, that was so emotional to write. It felt personal. Whenever I write coming out, it's always personal. Hope you enjoyed that chapter.


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